A glow of yellow-white light illuminated the small stable. The building was dominated by a sturdy log box stall; a sorrel horse leaned his head curiously over the top rail. On the far side of the room was a bunk built into one wall and a rude cupboard containing crockery jars and a wooden bucket. The lean-to roof was low, slanting down to less than five feet in the back.
"What place is this?" Kelt growled, dropping the sea chest. "A pirate's love nest?"
She gave a wry laugh. "You're not far off. We're on Bantree. It belongs to James Pade, a neighbor of my mother's." Ashley rested her hands lightly on her hips. "Lord Pade is accustomed to making nocturnal visits to certain ladies. He always used to keep a horse and certain necessities here so he could spend the night if it was too late to go home. I used to play here as a child. Quincy told me Pade's habits haven't changed."
"And is this Pade in league with your father and his pirate friends?"
"James Pade?" She laughed. "Good Lord, no! Would a man of forty-five who's so afraid of his mother that he won't admit to having natural urges be involved with pirates?"
Kelt crossed the space between them and caught her arm roughly. "This isna a game! I've witnessed enough to hang the lot of ye!"
"Isn't it a game?" She tried to pull free, but his fingers bit cruelly into her flesh. "Let me go, damn you." She kicked at him and he sidestepped her, pulling her against his chest. Ashley doubled up a fist and tried to swing at his head.
"Nay, we'll ha' none of that," he said, catching her wrist with his other hand. "You'll be giving some answers if ye dinna wish me to turn ye over to His Majesty's justice. I'll be no part o' piracy."
"Let me go! I'll kill you. I swear I'll kill you if you don't let go of me!"
"Why, Ashley? Why did he release me? His lieutenant was fair for cuttin' my throat."
Anger washed over Ashley in crimson waves. Tears burned her eyes as she struggled futilely against him. "I should have let them," she cried. "I'd have been well rid of you."
Pinning both her wrists with one hand, Kelt held her at arm's length and cupped her chin with the other. "Are you party to his black art? Was it because of you that those men aboard the Snow Princess died?"
Ashley cursed him until she had used up every expression she had ever heard and invented a few original ones besides. Slowly her rage faded and she began to tremble in the chill night. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "It was a game, you witless booby. The chess match." She swayed and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her. "The match," she repeated woodenly. "I played for your life, Kelt."
He shook his head in disbelief. "Nay, 'twas but to pass the time."
"Why should I say anything? When I tell you the truth, you say I lie. Do you want me to give you lies? I can!" she cried.
"But the gown... the sea chest there... the way he treated you. 'Twas evident you were—"
"His guest?" Ashley gave a bitter snort. "Would you have been happier if I'd been handed over to the crew for their pleasure?" She twisted free and backed away until she felt the log rails on the stall against her shoulder. "Where else on that ship would I have been safe?" she demanded sarcastically. "My clothes were soaked in blood. Was I to keep them on, to forgo washing so as not to offend your fine sense of honor?"
Shaking with rage, he took a step toward her, his fists clenched at his sides. "Were ye a part of it?"
"No! I wasn't... at least not the way you mean. Think, man, if you have the brains! Would I shoot down my father's own crewmen if I was part of it? I didn't even know it was he until I saw that devil-spawned dwarf. My father thought to keep you aboard to replace some of his losses. Gavin wanted your head, but Quincy said you were too good with a cutlass to waste."
"And if I'd refused?"
"He'd have given you over to Gavin."
His hands were on her shoulders again, but there was no place for Ashley to run. "Ye ask a lot of a mon, to take what ye say on faith, lass. I wasna born yesterday that I can be—"
"I'm not asking anything of you!" she flung back. "We argued over you and I made him a bet. It amused him enough to accept."
"Were ye telling the truth about the Snow Princess? Was she set adrift?"
"That will be easy enough to prove, won't it?"
Kelt dropped his hands to cup her face and met her penetrating gaze. "How long have you known about him?"
Ashley's eyes glazed over in pain. "Since I was a little girl," she choked. "He used to come to the plantation. My grandfather never knew. Quincy said if I told, they might have to kill each other." Shamefully the tears started again as her first memories of her father came rushing back. "It was my grandfather I deceived," she whispered hoarsely. "I never told him about Quincy. Never! I never told anybody but Cicely."
"Hush, hush," Kelt soothed, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms protectively around her. "Dinna take on so. You'll make yourself sick with weeping, lass."
"I hated him," she sobbed. "I did... but he was my father. I couldn't let him and my grandfather kill each other. Not on account of me. I couldn't."
"Shush, shush," he murmured into her hair. "I believe you." And, God help him, he did want to believe her. He wanted to believe in her innocence. "Ye were but a wee bairn. 'Tis easy to see how ye were caught in his trap. No child would betray her own father."
"Not even if he was a pirate... a murderer?"
"Nay, lass. Not even then." Kelt bent his head and pressed his lips against her trembling mouth. She clung to him, molding her body to his. "Did you truly play for my life?" he asked as he swept her easily into his arms.
"Yes." She made a small sound of pleasure as he buried his face in her neck. He was so warm... so warm... and she needed that warmth, needed his strength and comfort. "I couldn't let him have you," she whispered as his quick fingers found the laces of her gown. There was a rustle of satin as the garment fell to the floor. Then he was kissing her bare shoulders and the rise of her breasts. She moaned and raised her lips. Kelt would shut out the nightmare, if only for the night. She needed him as she had never needed anyone else.
He bent over her, plunging his tongue deep within her mouth, claiming her with his powerful hands and caressing lips.
Somehow, they were on the narrow bunk, her shift gone and his bare chest pressed against her swollen breasts. His legs wrapped about hers as his fingers touched and teased, bringing her to the shuddering precipice of aching desire. There was nothing but Kelt, his touch, his soft words of love.
"I want you," he murmured raggedly. "I want you—now!"
With a cry of passion she pulled him to her, rising to meet the virile thrusts of his body, reaching out to join her soul with his, until both were lost in joined ecstasy.
She wept again in his arms, but the tears were not of sorrow but of joy. The agony of a child's deception, the festering sore of guilt were gone.
Sometime in the hours before dawn, the candle sputtered and went out. "See that," Ashley whispered, "it's time for sleeping."
"Nay, woman, there'll be no sleep for ye this night," he teased, catching her bare arm between his teeth and nipping tenderly at the soft flesh. "What need does a mon ha' for light when he can feel this... and this..."
She gasped, retaliating with teasing fingers. "I'm glad I won," she murmured. "It would not have been the same, to spend my night here alone." She pulled a feather from the ticking beneath her head and brushed it across his face.
With a mock growl he pushed her back and nuzzled against her breast, taking the tip of her nipple between his lips. "And do you always win?" he demanded when he came up for air.
"This was the first time," she answered softly.
"The hell you say!"
"Well," she conceded, moving her legs to take him between her thighs. "I knew I'd have to beat him sooner or later. I've been letting him beat me for ten years."
Chapter 14
Ashley's eyelids flickered and she snuggled deeper into the feather tick, pulling the wool blankets closer about her again
st the cold Virginia morning. The delicious smells invaded her dreams once more, and she moaned sleepily, reaching out to reassure herself that the man who had shared her passion was real and not some imagined fancy. Her hand felt only the empty space beside her and her eyes opened wide. For a few seconds she stared around the barn, letting all that had happened in the past two days fall into place. Finally she realized that, except for the sorrel horse, she was alone in the barn.
"Kelt!" She sat up, pulling the cloak over her bare breasts. "Kelt, where are you?"
His voice came reassuringly through the open door with the early morning sunlight. "Aye, lassie, I'm here. Are ye to sleep away the day?" His broad shoulders filled the opening; his face was shadowed, but she could imagine his self-satisfied grin.
Once again she was enveloped in the wonderful scent of food. To her embarrassment, her stomach growled. "You needn't look so pleased with yourself," Ashley said lazily.
Kelt chuckled warmly as he sat on the edge of the bunk and planted a kiss on the tip of her chin. "'Tis no chin for a woman," he teased."'Tis too firm. A woman wi' such a chin is bound for trouble, my grandmother would say. Such a woman probably whistles."
She caught his hand and brought the fingers to her mouth, gently kissing the place between the nails and the knuckles. "And what's wrong with a whistling woman?" she asked throatily.
"Whistling girls and cackling hens always come to bad ends. 'Tis a known fact," he declared smoothly, then kissed her lips in a most satisfying manner.
Ashley slid her arms around his neck, inhaling the strong male scent of him. He had bathed, God knew where, and his hair and beard were still damp. She felt the flush of color rise in her cheeks as she remembered the sensation of that beard against her. "Kelt." She pushed him away. "What is that smell?" She sniffed. It was impossible, but it smelled like sausage—fresh-cooked sausage.
"Hmmmp. It proves you are a kelpie if you can cause a Scotsman to forget his breakfast. Up wi' ye!" He smacked her playfully on a bare thigh. "Since you showed no sign of tending to our bodily needs, I made us some breakfast."
"Breakfast? With what?" She pulled the cloak tighter and rose from the bunk, looking for her discarded shift. Kelt tossed it to her. "Aren't you going to at least turn your back?" she asked.
"Nay."
Laughing, Ashley dropped the cloak and pulled the wrinkled shift over her head. Throwing open the sea chest, she took out a fresh gown of dove gray and quickly dressed, stamping her feet and rubbing her arms against the chill.
"Have ye a maid in there as well?" He opened the lid a crack and peered inside. "Perhaps a coach and nine?"
Ashley threw a hairbrush at him. "There should be," she agreed. "Somewhere in the bottom." He caught the brush and moved behind her to begin brushing out her long hair in even, gentle strokes. "Mmm," she murmured. "That feels good."
"Nay different than grooming a horse." Before she could turn to smack him, he caught her about the waist. Letting the brush fall to the floor, he caressed her waist and the bottom half of her breasts with his thumbs and fingers. "Perhaps a little different," he conceded. Turning her around, he tilted her chin up to kiss her lips once more.
Hot excitement pulsed through Ashley's veins. What was it about this man that his lightest touch could make her tremble like a willow leaf in a storm? Every hour, every day he became more a part of her, until thinking of life without him was like looking into a yawning void. Her fingers tightened on the back of his neck and she moistened her lips to meet his again.
Both were breathless when the kiss ended. With rough impulsiveness Kelt pushed her to arm's length and gazed into the gold-flecked eyes. "There is a thing I would say t' ye, lass," he said huskily. She blinked, and for a heartbeat Kelt stared into the turmoil of Ashley's naked soul. "Nay, sweeting," he reassured her, "'tis nothing bad." He cupped her face in his hands. "On the ship, when the pirates came at us..." He cleared his throat. "Ye have a way about ye, woman, of making me as awkward as a lad," he admitted with a grin. "What I'm trying to say is that I've fought beside many a mon, but none wi' more courage. Ye can guard my back anytime, anyplace."
Joy replaced the fear in her eyes and she threw herself into his arms. "You're not so bad yourself, for a Virginian," she teased, molding her warm body against his.
"Ye be a bad habit, wench," he murmured into her hair. "A mon can get nothing done for loving ye."
She laughed and wiggled free. "You said breakfast?"
He led the way to a tiny fire outside the barn. Ashley blinked. On a clean slab of wood were sausages and wedges of cornbread with butter. Four eggs, still in their shells, were propped against the slab, and the strong smell of tea came from a kettle balanced over the fire.
"Where did you..." She looked at him suspiciously. "You didn't cook this?"
"My lady." He waved gallantly toward a fallen log. "Will you have honey wi' your tea this morning?"
"Kelt!"
"Aye, lass?" Efficiently he swept two of the sausages and a slice of cornbread onto the makeshift plate. He added an egg and deposited the offering in her lap, then began to pour the tea into a tin cup.
"The tea may have come from the barn, but none of the rest. Where did you get this food, Kelt?" she demanded.
"Watch the tea, 'tis hot," he warned. Smugly he served himself and began to devour the remaining food.
Ashley nibbled tentatively at a sausage and found it delicious. Without hesitation, she began to eat, finishing every bite and sipping the heavenly tea. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" she said when she was done.
He grinned. "You may ha' broke bread wi' your illustrious father, but I didna. I needed something to eat before I died of starvation." He motioned to the west where a thin column of smoke rose above the trees. "I took a few coins from the chest and walked over to the neighbors. The lady of the house was happy to sell me the makings o' a proper meal."
"And it didn't bother your sense of honor to use a pirate's coin to buy your breakfast?"
"Nay." Kelt's eyes twinkled beneath the fallen lock of dark hair. "A mon must be practical."
Ashley dusted the crumbs off her hands and shirt. "If you've filled your stomach, I want you to take a message to Lady Pade. You must have a decent change of clothing." Ashley rolled her eyes at his torn and dirty garments. "And we'll need the loan of a carriage or even a dogcart."
"You said we were within walking distance of Rosewood. If your mother may be dying, why the delay?"
"I wasn't thinking straight last night. You know these Virginians—each as haughty as Lucifer himself. My stepfather is among the worst. If we arrive looking like gypsies, he might refuse to admit us." She shook her head. "No, we must plan this carefully. Lady Pade is my mother's friend, and she knows I am no danger to her precious son. She will help us for Cicely's sake. You can take the sorrel. The Pade manor is only a mile or so south."
"And if we are too late at your mother's bedside?"
Ashley's brown furrowed in concern. "If we are, I'll be sorry. But I'll not be shamed by Nicholas Randall. Not again... not ever."
* * *
The wheels of the yellow dogcart spun over the hard-packed dirt as Kelt guided the black mare up the tree-lined lane and through the massive gates of Rosewood. Ashley gripped the side of the cart with one hand; the other was clenched into a fist at her side. Neither had spoken for the last two miles.
When Kelt had returned from the Pade plantation with the horse and cart, he had also brought word that they had arrived too late. "The funeral was yesterday," he'd said gently. "I'm sorry, lass. You would have been on time if..."
"If our ship hadn't been captured by the Scarlet Witch."
Cicely was dead. Ashley still couldn't believe it. Had she been beautiful in her coffin, or had the fever taken even her loveliness away? She shivered in the late morning air. Why had they buried her so quickly? Did Nicholas hate her so much he'd deny Ashley's presence at her own mother's funeral?
The dirt road curved around a ha-ha
wall, giving them a clear view of the magnificent brick house. The original building, a one-and-a-half story manor house, had been augmented by a square center structure rising three full stories, and then duplicated on the far side of the new addition. It was an impressive home, even for the James River aristocracy, and the sight never failed to ignite Ashley's temper.
Kelt reined in the black. "Your stepfather doesn't seem to lack any of the necessities of life," he said dryly.
"You like it?" Ashley's eyes darkened. "My mother's money paid for it all. Two of her plantations were sacrificed to build this—eighteen hundred acres of prime tobacco land." She pursed her lips as though she had tasted something bitter. "Nicholas will have the best," she continued. "The fastest horses, the most beautiful women. He once traded Cicely's favorite maid for a hound, then shot the dog when it lost the scent of a fox during a chase."
"Sounds like a mon with a lack o' common sense."
"He's worse than that. I was terrified of him when I was a child. He beat me once with a riding crop for breaking a saucer." Something cold flickered in the depths of Ashley's dark eyes. "I was four years old. My mother watched without saying a word." She inhaled deeply, letting her gaze drop to a row of boxwood that lined the neatly manicured lawn. "I always wanted to ask her why. I guess now I'll never know."
"Ha' ye thought she may ha' been frightened o' him, too?"
Ashley nodded. "She is... was." She clasped her hands together, gripping them tightly. "He used to hit her whenever he was angry... and Nicholas is frequently angry."
"Yet she stayed wi' him all these years."
"I think I blamed her for that most. She could have come home to Morgan's Fancy. After my grandfather died, I wrote to her and begged her to come. I would gladly have given her refuge."
Kelt flipped the reins over the mare's back and the cart rolled up to the door. A servant ran to catch the horse's head. Kelt got out of the cart, walked behind it, and assisted Ashley down. Neither had missed the black wreath on the front door.
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